


Teleportation troubles

by Ena2705



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 20:46:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13532232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ena2705/pseuds/Ena2705
Summary: A short fic that includes you, the reader *stolen from my tumblr lol*





	Teleportation troubles

It started when you were 16. You woke up one morning on golden sands, with the sea tickling at your toes. After taking a moment to realise that you were not in your own bed, you jumped up and looked around. The picturesque view reminded you of something from a magazine. “What the…” your sentence trailed off when you saw a local. “Excuse me! Would you mind telling me where I am.” He looked confused, and you realised that he didn’t understand you. After an hour of wandering around aimlessly and thinking how the hell you were going to get home, you felt a tingling sensation inside and suddenly, you were back in your bedroom.  
This teleportation continued every day since then, and each day to a different location. One day you woke up in the Palace of Versailles, the next in an abandoned theme park, and so on. One morning, however, was different to the others. That morning you woke up in an ordinary bed, in an ordinary bedroom. You stepped out the room, knowing you had an hour to kill, and wandered down the hallway, noting how it seemed more like a bunker than a house. You reached what seemed to be the library, and was about to reach for a book when you heard the click of a gun behind you. You rose your hands and turned to see a man, nearing 40, but a very good looking men nonetheless, behind the gun.  
“Who are you and how did you get in here?” He demanded. “I…teleported.” You grimaced, knowing that he wouldn’t believe you and your blood was about to paint the walls. “How? What are you? Angel? Demon?” He barked. You looked confused, he believed you? You took a deep breath and started to explain. Not so long after, another man joined the room, and after seeing the other man’s gun pointed at you, he produced his own from behind his back. Half an hour later, you had managed to convince them that your story was true, and that you were not a threat. “Alright then, what’s your name?” The taller asked. “My name is…” But you had whipped back to your own room before you could finish your sentence.  
The next morning you opened your eyes once more, and once more you were in the exact same room. ‘That’s odd.’ You thought. Not once in your many years of teleporting had you ever woken up in the same place, let alone two mornings in a row. The same happened the next day, and the day after. “You’re back!” Sam declaired one morning. “Yeah, its like something here is keeping me here, like when you scratch a record and it gets stuck on the same bit over and over.” You say, having thought of that analogy yesterday. “Probably some of the warding.” Dean mutters into his coffee, entering the room.  
It had been two years now since the first morning you woke up in their bunker. You are greeted each morning with “coffee’s still hot” and a welcoming smile. Though you only see them for an hour a day, the two brothers and their angel are like family to you now. After all the wounds you’ve stitched up, and all the lore you’ve helped them read through, you couldn’t imagine a better place to wake up to each morning. And when they’re not there, when they’re on a hunting trip, you wake up to a note by your bedside saying good morning, or a text telling you that they’re still alive and kicking.


End file.
